


Stuck Around Have You?

by belivaird_st



Category: Late Night (2019)
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, F/F, Friendship/Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 08:42:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20721386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belivaird_st/pseuds/belivaird_st
Summary: Molly finds comfort at Katherine’s house.





	Stuck Around Have You?

“The party ended hours ago—what are you still doing here?” Katherine asked Molly, who had been curled up on the foot of Newbury’s bed the next morning, still wearing her purple sequin dress from last night. Molly squinted over to Katherine, who was wearing a fuzzy pale green bathrobe, collecting several half empty drinking glasses on a serving tray by the nightstand. Molly rose up to sit on her bottom, rubbing her face with strands of black hair askew; sticking out.

“What time is it?” her voice sounded funny and hoarse.

“Almost nine-thirty. It’s Saturday. Trump is still the president of the United States, unfortunately,” Katherine made a sickening noise from the back of her throat that got Molly to smile and peer around her surroundings.

“This room is nothing like mine. I hope I didn’t make Walter angry.”

“He was glad to find you on our bed instead of somebody else. Like a younger man...”

“Like Charlie Fain?” Molly snorted.

Katherine’s face twitched at the sound of his name. “We do not speak of him, anymore, do you understand, Molly?” she said softly, but firm.

“Considering the fact that you just called me by my first name and not a number, yeah, I understand.”

“Right. Good. Now please get up and go fix yourself before I take us both out for breakfast...” Katherine was calling over to her while carrying the glassware tray out of the bedroom. Molly held onto her pounding, achy hangover head. She had finally used the last remaining amount of energy to get down on her smoke nylon feet, wiggling back into her high heels that were left on the rug thrown wooden floor.


End file.
